I'd like to open this journal up with a metaphor, if you will:

Sometimes, there's too much blood in the water to continue swimming. But you can always climb ashore and find safer seas; Unless the sharks get to you, first.

Yesterday, I nearly drowned in the bloody water. I felt the most anxiety I've ever encounter in recent memory. I'd been struggling with my social, emotional, and mental health for a good two weeks, now. The stresses of this new world caught up to me. From staying at home nearly 24/7, to the entirety of the internet, family, and some friends telling me how to think and feel about the protests, to losing one of my closed friends, and to something as simple as being berated and bullied in CS:GO for, you guessed it, not being good enough. I self harmed, I lashed out, I vented, drank, and bled. But I also learned a lot about myself and others, and I wanted to take the time to talk about that, here, in the hopes that others may learn from my trials and tribulations.

Time Bomb

This story begins on June 1st, 2020, my twenty-first birthday. I'm expecting my friend, N, over for some wine and daiquiri's. The sun is shining, and I feel mostly okay. The previous day I had bothersome and difficult conversation with my brother and father about the protests, and they asked me what I thought of them. And, afterwards, they proceeded to talk about family drama regarding my mother and money she owes my brother and I, and how she wont get the government to back off on payments from the divorce, which happened ten years ago, mind you. All while I'm stuck in the car with them on our way back to his hotel on a rainy day. Yeah, not the kinda stuff you ought to discuss with your son on his birthday, no less.
I asked to just go home at that point, my mood was fouled and I felt uncomfortable and saddened. The following day, we made up and had a beer together by the BTC tower. We watched old motocross videos and movie clips from Better Off Dead (which is the world's best comedy, in my opinion). It was a good day.

Fast forwarding a bit, N arrives with a bottle of Sailor Jerry's, he stopped outside the steps to pet my cat, Zulu, who was basking in the sunshine lawn. I lead him to the backyard where we sit at the outdoor table, and i bring out a bottle of Pacific Rim sweet Riesling. Turns out, it was far too sweet for my tastes, heh. We chatted for a few minutes before my brother came outside to ask for a temporary replacement phone. Followed shortly by my sister. The air became uncomfortable, as I wasn't going to just tell my siblings to leave us be, after all, this is their backyard too, and it's a warm, clear day! So, I shut my mouth, allow them all to greet and converse while I worked on that bottle of riesling. Eventually, I break away and invite N with me down to my room, where we cuddled and had some idle conversation. Eventually, I became restless and introduced him to some of my friends on Discord. He, sadly. had to go. A friend of his wanted to speak with him about something important, and I could tell N was becoming antsy at the thought. I walked him out the front door, and returned to my desk. I had already opened a bottle of Dark Horse Sauvignon Blanc do share with N, but now it was just me. I wish he'd stayed longer.

What followed was a discussion with J, Na, and S. I was browsing Twitter and saw a headline that said the LAPD was outnumbered by protesters, and I jokingly said "Damn, LA knows how to throw a riot!" It was not received well. What followed was a heated discussion about current events that left us all feeling upset. And I, even more tipsy. We broached the subject of who had it harder: straight people, gay people, or bisexual people. We all represented a side, and things were getting tense. We did our best to take turns, but ultimately, I we rolled over each other. Unable to get my footing in the conversation, riled up from the stress of the last three days, and quite intoxicated, I slammed my pocket knife on my desk, puncturing it, before raising my voice. That's how it began, my first meltdown in a long time. One of the lovely defects that came in my Asperger's package is meltdown state when overwhelmed or cornered. It made life in elementary and middle school very difficult, as school staff didn't know how to handle a meltdown; turns out, no one else does, either! As I continue to shout at my friends and acquaintances, S and Na leave. Leaving me alone with J, also a close friend. I go off on a pained monologue as I bang my head against my desk occasionally, and drawing superficial cuts of my forearms. My mother descended the stairs to see what was going on, at this point, my headphones fall off, my hands are coated with tears, wine, and blood. She and i continued talking for quite a bit, J stuck around for about half of the conversation before disconnecting. My mother, as always, de-escalated me. I returned to the call to find another friend, D, who was sent there to keep me calm. I apologized to D and continued to cry. My mother informed me that there were police officers outside that wanted to talk to me. I panicked. I sent a photo of my bloody arm to a few channels within the Furternity before I was removed. My contact with D was cut off. I ran into my garage and grabbed a pry bar before hiding under my desk. It's always been a safe place for me during times of high anxiety.

I called N in great distress, my hands are shaking, my heart is pounding, and voice is strained from the sobbing. Still clutching my pry bar, I ask him what I should do. I asked him to come and save me. The police became impatient and marched downstairs, I think there were three or four of them. I refused to drop my pry bar and demanded that they leave me be. I didn't swing it or even threaten them wit hit, I simple clutched it close to curled up body. My time ran out. Two of them rushed forth and dragged me out from under the desk, flipping my on my stomach and seizing the pry bar, the third on placed the cold, hard cuffs tightly around my soaked wrists. They dragged me upstairs and out onto the front lawn, where firefighters were waiting to inspect my wounds and take my vitals, before sending in the ambulance. I pleaded with the officers, the firefighters, the paramedics, and my own mother to release me. I knew exactly what was going to happen to me, and I was deathly afraid. They didn't budge.

I spent the rest of my birthday drifting in and out of a drunken slumber, as nurses would come by now and then to take blood samples and vitals. The bed was not comfortable, the blankets and pillows were thin, and someone would frequently have a loud conversation in the hall, waking me up. During my stay, I reeled in this feeling. I felt awful for shouting at my friends and I felt like an absolute moron for posting photos of my forearm to the group. I didn't want explode like this again, so I came up with a plan. First, I was going to personally apologize to my friends who were involved. Then, I was going to schedule a therapy appointment. I would also hand all the liquor I was gifted to my mother so that i did not have access to it during this volatile period; not until I complete my first appointment would I allow myself to drink again, and even so, to meter myself.
Around 3am, I met with the social worker. They are responsible for evaluating you and determine which actions need to be taken, whether outpatient or inpatient care is needed. This was the most gut wrenching part, because what I said and how I said things was detrimental to my fate. I told her, along with my story, that I wasn't trying to kill myself--that I was just trying to express my pain in the only way I felt I could. It is the truth. Luckily, she sympathized with me and trusted me with my plan, and provided me with a list of outpatient clinics I can approach. She arranged for a vehicle to transport me home that morning. The sun was rising, and the air was cool. I'll never forget that feeling. The city was quiet and the sky was pink and orange. I felt like I'd just woken up from a very bad dream, and i felt tired.

As soon as I got home, I got started on my plan, I wrote my apologies, collected my liquor, and waiting until the clinic opened up. Unfortunately, my fellow leaders were giving me the ruler, and made demands of me after my apology and plea for re-entry. They were very harsh and I felt betrayed. I begged for my acquaintance, V, to just sit in a call with me that morning and see me. Hear me. Listen to what I have to say, as they did not consult me during the decision-making process. I imagined that the only image of me they remember was during my meltdown. I needed them to see me as I was now. He agreed, gratefully, and spoke with my colleagues. They reduced the severity of my banishment from a 3 week ban, followed by one month of sobriety and regular therapy appointments as probation, to just one month of regular therapy appointments as probation, beginning after my first appointment. I agreed and tried to cope with my new reality. You see, the Furternity was my only social outlet, all my friends and acquaintances were on there, and that's where we all spent time together. With that gone, it was as though my support system was gone, which I badly needed to get through this difficult moment in life. I made it three days. My first window for an appointment was on Monday. I checked in with B, the creator of the Furternity, to see how he was doing. We had pleasant conversation and eventually he returned the question. I spoke honestly and candidly about how anxious and alone I felt since my birthday. And he heard me. He made an executive decision to allow me back into the Furternity, contingent on confirming that I did, indeed, have an appointment on Monday. I confirmed it, though it wasn't until Tuesday that someone actually sat down with me. I was very grateful for his trust and understanding. During my first evening back, a couple members pulled me to the side in a private voice chat to talk to me. It appreciated them taking the time console me like that, particularly Dj, who I spoke with for what must have been an hour. Things were better, and my plan was working.

I don't remember the specific day, but I had just sold my carburetors on Ebay. It was a hazy afternoon and I decided to walk to the post office to drop it off. On my way, I figured I'd text N and catch up with him. I hadn't spoken to him since the meltdown. He hadn't reached out to me, and I assumed he was upset. I just made it to the front lawn when I got the reply. Two long messages. My stomach dropped. Among other things, he said that the experience was traumatizing and he felt helpless; that he couldn't be the only friend I lean on. And then the obligatory "I hope you get the help you need..." I just can't be your friend anymore.

You never know in the moment when it's the last time you'll ever see that person. The cost of my meltdown had raised.

I fell to my hands and knees, fighting back tears. This was too much to bear. This is the moment that inspired my sketch "Pain."

Treading Water

I had made it to my first appointment, and intake appointment, and had been accepted. I was scheduled to meet with a prescriber on the afternoon of the 11th, followed by my therapist on the afternoon of the 15th. I met my obligation. As I recovered from the loss of my friend, N, my mental state had improved. One part of my plan I forgot to mention was muting any words relating to the protests or any other stress-triggers I could think of. And suddenly, it was as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and my mind was clear. Though, the weekend following my birthday was supposed to be a party with my close friends J, D, and Br, it had to be postponed, which was a bummer. I allowed myself to drink some wine in the evenings what I had completed all my responsibilities. I'd sit in voice chat, as well, and I had no issues. I proved to myself that I am capable of enjoying my wines while also in a social setting. I was really improving.

I wanted to try and address my faltering engagement with peer activities within the Furternity by moving outside my comfort zone and trying new things. I figured it would be the best time to spend meaningful time with my friends and acquaintances on the server. I joined B's Shadowrun campaign along with my friends, which was a good time. We all became stressed out with the character creation, though. I also picked CS:GO back up--a game that is traditionally wrought with personal insults and failure for me. Our server has a small ensemble of CS:GO players and it felt good to be among them. Our first couple days of playing went well and I had a lot of fun! I found that some Iron Horse beer loosened me up enough to mesh well with other players and generally be less tense. It made a huge difference. Things were good.

Insult to Injury

So, it's the 11th. I'm up alarmingly early because of some rather vivid dreams and a stiff back. The Playstation 5 is being revealed this morning. My friends assemble in a all, one of them streaming the stream to everyone else. I, already feeling tired, slip in bed and watch from afar. My appointment was coming up at 1pm. I didn't realize just how tired i was, and couldn't keep my eyelids open. When they re-opened, it was 3:30pm and I realized the level of shit I was now in. Why didn't I set an alarm? I felt awful and beat myself up for missing it. My friends wanted to play more CS:GO, and I obliged, but not before fetching my bottle of Sailor Jerry's and cherry coke to go with it. The matches were fine, I was making more mistakes and I openly expressed more self-pity for my low-skill level and failing to show up to my prescriber appointment. People began to take notice, including my friends. I was wasted at this point, the sun was setting, and we called it a day. I was left alone in the call with J, but he was away. Feeling abandoned, I began spiraling again. I broke a thin plate and started to cry again. My mom came back down the stairs once m ore to investigate, and I was laying flat on my back, sobbing. In an attempt to rationalize with me and calm me down, regarding my missed appointment, she dug up a demon of mine, some that still haunts me. I thought it to be a betrayal. I raised my voice at her to not bring him up. My ex boyfriend, that is. He lived out in Ocean Shores, and after my crisis in December, I ran to him twice for extended visits--missing class and outpatient appointments alike, just to spend a few wonderful days with him, away from my world. I'm sure I've written about that previously and will not re-write it here, but you can see the parallel she was trying to draw.

She gave up trying to discuss it with me, and I was once again left alone.
I put on my Bates sweatshirt, my Bates beanie, and grabbed my Bates plushie and slipped out the back door into the sunset. I was spiraling and I wanted to escape to the ocean. I called my ex twice and left two voice mails, in the haze, I mistook my outgoing calls to him in my history as an incoming call. I thought he tried to call me. I thought it to be comical. My mother tried to get ahold of me, of course. I refused to come home. I was going to see the sound. Night fell, and i drunkenly wandered the sidewalks of my city. I found a place to sit under an overpass and opened up Discord. I joined a full call in the Furternity and shared my predicament with the others. Suddenly, everyone was worried, but they let me drone on about my inner thoughts and self-worth issues regarding the missed appointment. They seemed to understand and were being kind to me. One even offered to pay for an Uber to pick me up and take me home. They really wanted me to turn back. But Insisted that I see the water tonight, and picked myself back up. I remained in the call to talk with everyone on my walk, but my battery died and i was left alone again. At this point, I was lost. I didn't recognize where I was and I suddenly found myself in Fircrest. But, based on gut feeling, I steered myself back to familiar surroundings.

The night city was gorgeous! It reminded me of the nights I'd spend exploring Ellensburg with my bestie. the air was fresh and cold, the light was low, and the cars were few. I did make it to the water eventually, and I sat by it for a few minutes. I spoke to some strangers walking by, briefly, who tried to walk through a path that was covered by the high tide. I decided that I was ready to go home, and began the long march. I stopped at a tavern for some water, as I was quite parched. I walked past a Safeway with some carts sloppily left astray. What better use of a Thursday night that wrangling some Safeway carts? I returned as many as I deemed necessary and returned to my journey. I felt useful, for once in a while. I did a good deed! I was signing my favorite pop punk songs all the way home. I returned to the call as soon as I could, it was just past midnight now, and there were some stragglers. They were happy to hear that I was home safe, and I apologized for the dead battery. I imagine that must have been stressful for them. Unfortunately, the conversation drifted in a direction where I couldn't offer much, so I stepped away once more and worked on my customer's bike, as I had some new parts. It seemed like we, as a group, worked this one out. But it was nevertheless another meltdown, and that's all they saw.

I uninstalled CS:GO that night, as it became another stress trigger, and I could do without it.

Recoil

This is where things get juicy, and not in a good way. This is why I'm sitting down, writing all of this.
Yesterday, I returned home from Br's house for the party. It was great to see J and D again after all this time, we had a lot of laughs, play Skull Wizards, Br and I went hot tubbing, and we got a little frisky before calling it a night. There was an assortment of wines we all enjoyed and even a couple mixed drinks served up my Br. He even bought me a cake. A cake! I don't know what I'd do without him. That morning, I sat with J and D in the living room. They are a couple and the back and forth's they have are just amusing and cute. I put on some Internet Comment Etiquette for us, as well, which we all enjoyed. Eventually, though, we had to part ways and say goodbye.

So, I had another meltdown, but i proved to myself and my friends that I can enjoy drinks and not fall off the depression deep-end. And i got to spend time with my close friends! I felt great, like I finally had the missing piece of that puzzle. Social contact, in-person. Something that has been decidedly missing since mid March.

I got everything sorted at home and was sitting in voice chat, alone. Hoping someone would pop their head in and say hello. I had no idea what was happening behind that silent curtain. Suddenly, as I am watching a Youtube video, I hear the disconnected sound from Discord. I open it up, thinking it was my network, but then poof! The Furternity logo disappears from my side bar and F, on of my friends and former-colleague, sends be a paragraph in a very corporate, impersonal, condescending tone that they have removed me for what happened on the night of the 11th and that they want me to seek professional help and so on so forth. They''l let me back in when "progress" has been made. Which is nondescript. I write my response to this, mostly expressing confusion and offering to have a discussion, but he's blocked me. Welp. I write to two other administrators, V and B, maintain a calm, respectful tone while offering a solution and further action, mostly extending a n olive branch for discussion, and no one consulted me about this. My anxiety returned and I was afraid. I reached out to J to try and talk with him, because I needed to talk to someone. I began working on my customer's bike to take my mind off of this very pressing matter. J calls me back and I tell him what's going on, after pleasantries, of course. I seriously owe him one for standing up for me, on my behalf, last night. He is an invaluable friend to me and I wish I could repay the favor. I didn't get back in, but he helped calm me down.

Up until I received a private message from an artist I will assign the pseudonym "Honolulu." She prefaced her cruel message by saying that she doesn't care if what she says hurts me. I can't write what she wrote in my own words, I simply do not possess hatred to do so, so I will let Honolulu speak for herself: https://www.dropbox.com/s/xbtncvm0q.....q74/1.png?dl=0

At this point, it felt like my heart was point to explode and the lungs stopped working. Full-on panic attack. J was concerned and wanted to see what she said, and after sending him the screen shot, he dropped what he was doing out of outrage. He went to speak with B about it, and when he returned, he said that B was furious with Honolulu and that he was in a call at the moment with F. I was amazed that they' go to bat for me, and it helped reel in my anxiety. J told me that what she said is bullshit, that it was baseless, and that is was rude. So many adjectives.
I was more concerned with why she perceived me as all the these awful, negative things. What was it that I did?

Historically, I use our mental health channel to vent about my struggles to see if anyone out there feels as I do, but I never point the finger at others for my episodes or my issues. Never. I don't use my struggles or venting to twist people's arms. I don't manipulate people. I'm having a really fucking hard time living at the moment, so sorry for using the resources at my disposal for coping with them! Nevertheless, I will enver get an answer to my question. But I do know that she was very misinformed, and I had bigger fears--no one was actually communicating with me, they are taking each other's hearsay at face value about what has happened. It a painful thought.

Though, after this experience, I learned something valuable, this is the reason why I'm writing this, the lessons I've learned with the context of how I learned them (partially, there's a lot before my birthday I can't cover, i'd be here all day. But know that I'd only ever been banned once, and that was on my birthday. I'd never been removed before, and I was actually a colony leader in the group and required over 12 people to the group from my area, I also created the linguistics channel for linguist majors, and organized a meetup for my colony to save everyone's sanity. I'm not some heathen, I was an integral member to the group's success and I miss it).

Reflection

I was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome in 2009. I was diagnosed with clinical depression in march of 2019, which was changed in December to major depressive disorder. I have a lot of demons from my past, and a lot of traumatic memories and experiences that sadly beaten me down to what I am now.

I have a lot of self-worth issues and I feel inferior to everyone else, even when there's no cause for it. But I know that talking about my struggles in a public environment is helpful, because it helps me lay everything out and pick it apart, as I am doing now. I used to write about my troubles here, then on Telegram, and then on Discord. It seems i've come full circle.

I also recognized a pattern, both between meltdowns and rum (haha), and between meltdowns and extreme stressors in my life. If I want to avoid this in the future, I need to recognize stressors before they metastasize and remove them from my consciousness, or remove myself from the situation. It's what I did with twitter and the protests, as well as CS:GO. Even before these issues, I was already managing stressors by muting AD accounts (long story).

After reading Honolulu's message, I realized why I feel worthless. It's because I'm always bowing down to people like her, B, F, and V. I am always at their mercy, and when they crack down, I feel I have to beg for a simple discussion, let alone forgiveness or understanding. I let their words send me into panic. If I want to free myself from that, if i want to start valuing myself, I need to let go. I should be self critical, still, but I should realize my own self-worth and the value I can bring to a social group, and that if people want to push that away, then they are missing out. My friends have always told me that "Fuck them, they're missing out," but I never believed it for long. But now? It's clear that everyone is upset, everyone has a different version of events in their head, and things may never return to normal again. there's too much blood in the water. So, I'll swim ashore, and see the shark for who they are and understand that I shouldn't be shedding blood, tears, and putting myself in the wringer for them when this is what I get.

I don't know where I'll go from here, hopefully make some local college friends that i can see in person. That's what i've got my sights set on. I need to stick to my pre-planned schedule that only allows me to drink on the weekends, at most, one bottle of wine per weekend day. And I hope my appointment tomorrow goes well. I'm doing this for myself, now. Not them. Because for once in a few years, I'm beginning to love myself. They aren't the center of my thoughts. And to clarify, I'm not saying I'm superior. No way I'll ever feel that way. But I recognize my own skills and strengths, and how I can the lives of the people around me better.